Collide
by teddylupin-snape
Summary: A collection of finding love, finding their way through love, and falling out of it. / 1. GellertAriana 2. RonDraco 3. JamesRemus, 4: HarryGinny, 5: HarryDraco, 6: GeorgeLeeOliver, 7: RemusSirius, 8: JamesRegulus, 9, 10: HarryGinny, 11: RemusSirius
1. Unchained - GellertAriana

He was one of the only people she would speak to when she was young. Surely the only one outside of her immediate family. That didn't mean she spoke often, of course. But she wasn't afraid to speak when he was in the room, and for Ariana, that was significant. Not that he let it go to his head. But he felt special for it, if nothing else. Ariana would talk to him. She felt safe around him. And that was more than he could say for most people.

They would sit together under the tree in her backyard, when Albus and Aberforth were busy inside and Kendra needed a break. Gellert didn't mind.

Ariana would pick flowers for him. They would sit and watch the leaves fall in autumn. It was simple, but it was nice. They would laugh together, smile, even chat occasionally.

But then Gellert moved away. He had to live his life, to do something beyond his great-aunt's little village. He brought Albus along with him, for a while. He didn't think much about the simple life he left behind, or the people he'd moved on from.

Albus ran off home one day. Gellert wasn't sure if he wanted to work with him anymore or not, but either way, Albus knew all of his secrets. He was supposed to be Gellert's partner in all of this – in his quest for the greater good. So Gellert followed him back to Godric's Hollow. He wanted to ask one last time, if Albus was in or out.

He wasn't expecting such an unwelcome arrival.

Aberforth answered the door at his knock. He'd never been close with Gellert, never trusted him. Looking back, Gellert supposed it was wise of him. That didn't mean he liked it.

"What do you want?"

"Aberforth, always a pleasure." He rolled his eyes, looking past Aberforth into the small house. "Is Albus here? I need to speak to him."

Aberforth didn't welcome him in, but crossed his arms. "You know she was a wreck when you left. She didn't say a word for two months. I bet you haven't given her a moment's thought since you left, though, have you? You only ever thought about yourself." His voice was gruff, irritated. Gellert sighed impatiently.

"Will you let me in?"

"Honestly? I'd rather not. This family doesn't have time to put up with the messes you create anymore. I really wish you weren't here right now, so if you could go before Ariana sees you-"

Gellert shook his head, pushing past Aberforth into the house and making his way toward the stairs to Albus's bedroom. Aberforth followed him, catching him before he reached the first step. "Stop." His fists were clenched, a fire in his eyes. "You can either leave now, or you can try to fix the problems you caused all those years ago."

"Fine." He sighed again, trying to rein in his anger. "Can I see Ariana?"

"I swear, if you hurt her again—"

" _Aberforth_." It was almost a warning.

He looked defeated, betrayed by the options he'd suggested. "She's in her room." He led Gellert upstairs, knocking softly on Ariana's door before going in.

"Hey, Ari." She looked up at him, smiling. Her long, blonde hair was down over her olive green dress. "Someone's here to see you." He tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice, for her sake. It doesn't work, exactly, but she doesn't seem to mind.

Gellert steps out of the doorway, walking forward to take a seat on the edge of her bed. "Hey. Sorry it's been so long. I hear you've missed me?" Aberforth snorts from behind them, and Gellert turns to him. "Do you mind?"

Aberforth rolls his eyes, but leaves them alone. Ariana fidgets with her blankets, not making eye contact with Gellert. He's not surprised, exactly. He never planned to have this conversation with her; he wasn't sure what to say.

"I—I'm sorry if I hurt you." The words come out without conscious thought. He supposes they're true. He's not sure how much of this is just him going through the motions, though. "I didn't realize how my leaving would affect you. I only wanted to make things better. For myself, I suppose. And I should've considered your opinion. I hope you've been alright."

She's quiet. Gellert expected her to say something. Apparently, he'd done more damage than he expected. Ariana won't even talk to him anymore. It makes him wonder if she talks to anyone anymore, if she's just as afraid of him as she is of everyone else. Maybe he's no different anymore.

"I always cared for you, Ariana. The rest of the world may not care. They may overlook you, like I did. But I'm back now. I'll be here for you."

He gives her a last smile. He tries to make it appear genuine, substantial. She's not looking at him, anyway. So he leaves, finds Albus.

And Albus ignores him, turns him down, threatens to curse him if he doesn't get out of his house and stay out. So Gellert gives up on him. He's tempted to perform a memory charm, to save his secrets. But the way Albus has his wand pointing between Gellert's eyes, the skill Albus has in a duel – it's not worth the risk. Not right now. So Gellert leaves, focuses on his own goals again, free of distractions.

A week and a half later, he receives a letter from Aberforth in the post. The parchment is a scrap, with two words scrawled on it. Their ink is warped from tears. _Fuck you_.

Gellert crumples the note in his hand without thinking about it. And he hates himself because he knows immediately what it means. He can't bring himself to avoid this, not this time.

So he returns to Godric's Hollow. He avoids the Dumbledore house, going directly to the small churchyard instead. He walks the rows until he finds the newest looking headstone. Gellert feels his heart drop into his feet, because Ariana is dead and lying in the earth below his feet.

He wants to kick out, to blast apart everything in his sight with curses. He doesn't. He doesn't notice that he's crying until a tear falls from his chin. " _Ariana_ ," he whispers.

"Don't." The voice behind him is impossibly cold. "Don't you dare cry for her now. Don't act like this isn't your fault. Don't act like you ever cared about her, and don't you _dare_ only start caring about her now."

Gellert spun around, face to face with Aberforth. Or, rather, face to wand. He'd never seen Aberforth this angry.

"You think you can just show up here, cry over her dead fucking body. You're so self-absorbed. You're only here because you're guilty, aren't you?" Gellert doesn't answer. He doesn't feel confident enough to lie. "She doesn't need you. You need to stop making everything about you. I don't want you here, and neither would she. We don't have time to stroke your ego. I don't want to deal with your broken heart. She's better off now that she doesn't have to worry about you ruining life for her. Now get out, and _never_ come back here," Aberforth snarls.

Gellert sweeps out of the small cemetery, black robes billowing out around him. He aims a kick at the gate on his way out and Apparates away with tear-stained cheeks and a hollowness within him.

 **A/N: Writing Club – Disney Challenge S1: Write about someone being afraid to speak; Book Club – The Commander: (trait) lonely, (dialogue) "I only wanted to make things better", (color) black; Showtime 1: (situation) an unexpected visitor; Count Your Buttons D1: "I really wish you weren't here right now"; Lyric Alley 3: Cause we don't want your broken parts; Ami's Audio Admirations 4: Write about something rare (rarepair); Sophie's Shelf Other Era Het 8: GellertAriana; Angel's Arcade – Kabal: (color) olive green, (action) clenching fists, (title) Unchained; Lo's Lowdown – Q6: "The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone" – Harriet Beecher Stowe; Bex's Bazaar – F3: Write about someone communicating without speaking; Sophie's Tearoom – Rosemary and Olive Drop Scones: (dialogue) "Stop making everything about you."; Seasonal – Shay's Musical Challenge 49: Write about an unexpected visitor; Gryffindor Themed Prompts: (location) Godric's Hollow; 365 Prompts: 116 (era) Dumbledore; Dragons, Writing Month – wc 1247**


	2. Penance - RonDraco

**This one-shot is rated M for sexual themes.**

 **.**

Neither of them planned it. If you had asked him two months earlier, Draco would've told you that he would never so much as give Ron Weasley the time of day.

Perhaps the way the war ended has made him desperate.

With everything that had changed, he didn't feel like he had any right to question it.

So when he rolled over that morning, the light of dawn shining directly in his eyes, he wasn't surprised to see Weasley in bed next to him, just as naked as he was. It had become routine. He'd leave in a few minutes and Draco would be left on his own until the next night.

Draco couldn't remember the last time he left Malfoy Manor. The days have all blurred together. When he did try to face the light of day, he was shunned, cursed, attacked. It was easier this way. Even so, these nights needed to be kept secret. It wasn't worth the risk. But the risk wasn't worth stopping, either.

The Manor was quiet lately. His mother said she was off to explore abroad. He knew she just wanted a way out of the memories. His father was still in Azkaban. Their liquor cabinet was quickly emptying. He spent his days with a drink in hand, staring at the wall, thinking.

Ron took the Floo directly into the house lately. He didn't need Draco to lead him around. Draco was already waiting in his room when Ron got there.

They kept the lights off. The walls were a deep navy blue, which only added to the disillusion. Neither of them wanted to acknowledge what they were doing. They didn't bother with formalities or awkwardness or tender touches.

"I needed this," Draco murmured, his voice a low growl. He hated admitting it out loud, but what happens on these nights doesn't count. Or so he told himself.

Draco pushed Ron down against the bed. Ron used to fight back, to try asserting dominance. But he's since learned that Draco needed it more than he did, so he didn't argue. He may not know much about Draco, but he did know how stubborn he was.

Draco kissed Ron fiercly, aggressively, _desperately_. He clawed at his shirt and throat, pinned his hands down above his head. Ron wondered if it still counted as passion when it was this insincere, this impersonal. He shook off the thought, wrapping his arms around Draco, hands behind his neck. He pulled himself up into the kiss, deepening it, daring to bite Draco's lip, pulling it slowly through his teeth. The resulting moan was power for him. He laced his fingers through Draco's hair, pulling it hard. He could feel it in his chest as Draco gasped, pulling back before diving back in with a vengeance.

"You taste like nicotine," Ron whispered between kisses. He'd always hated that Draco smoked.

"Fuck off." The only visible light was shining in through the window from a distant streetlight. Its glow illuminated Draco's features, the sharp jaw and the hunger in his eyes. Ron hated that he found it sexy. He hated all of this. But he didn't want it to end.

Ron pushed, rolling Draco off of him and pulling himself up on top. Draco didn't fight it. He pulled Ron's shirt off over his head, tracing the freckles across his shoulders and arms on his way back down. He followed the scars around his chest to his back, pulling him in tight and digging his nails into Ron's back, just enough to make him gasp, to dig his teeth into Draco's lip. He savored the pain. It felt right, deserved, for everything he'd done. But he didn't want to do without the pleasure that came with it.

They went all night, until they were sweaty and panting and falling away from each other to catch their breath.

Draco reached over to his bedside table, ignoring his wand and grabbing the pack of cigarettes.

"You going out for that?" Ron asked. It wasn't so much a question as a request. Draco sighed and rolled his eyes, dropping the box back onto the table and flopping back against the mattress. He just wanted to lay there. To sleep or to smoke. He didn't want to talk. But apparently Ron had been mulling this all over. "We're not so different, you know."

Against his better judgment, Draco asked, "What are you going on about?"

Ron sat up, propping himself against his hand, looking at Draco. Draco's eyes were firmly fixed on the ceiling. "We went through the same war. Different sides, different ways. But it still hit us both—"

"No." Draco finally met Ron's eyes, and Ron could swear he saw a flash of red in Draco's. "Don't even _try_ to say that we went through the same thing. Because you—you don't get it, okay? Your father isn't in Azkaban. You're not… not a social pariah. You weren't forced to join the losing side, you didn't lose what I lost. You don't have a fucking clue."

"I lost my brother. Your family's all still alive," Ron snarled. "You don't get to act like my life is perfect, it's not."

This was why they didn't talk. They stuck to sex and nothing more. Talking was messy, actions were all Draco needed. "At least you have a real family." Draco's voice was quieter, less forceful than he wanted it to be. He can't come off as vulnerable, especially not _now_ , not when he's fighting with Weasley and when his entire fucking world has collapsed.

"I—that doesn't—you don't get to use that as an excuse to use me like this. You—" he spluttered.

" _I_ used _you_? You're trying to say you aren't just using me for sex, too? That's bullshit and you know it, Weasley."

"You arrogant prick," Ron muttered, getting off the bed and retrieving his clothes. He stormed out of the room before bothering to get dressed, slamming the door behind him. Draco was left alone, more alone than he'd felt in months. He didn't realize how much having Ron every night changed him, made him feel the world just a bit less. He looked down at his own body, pale and naked. Goosebumps covered his arms and legs, interwoven with scars and bruises still healing. He hated the scars most of all. They wouldn't let him forget his mistakes.

He grabbed a cigarette, lighting it and breathing in deep. He let it fill him completely, to hole up in his emptiness. When he exhaled, he tried to get rid of it all.

The hurt still lingered.

When he woke the next morning, the stale taste of whiskey on his lips and cigarette butts scattered around him on the floor, he looked at the bed, searching for a glint of red. Weasley wasn't there. He should've known. He wished he could say that he didn't care where he was. He wished Ron didn't have a hold on him still. He wished he'd never let him in at all.

.

 **A/N: Written for Writing Club - Character Appreciation 15: (trait) Arrogant; Disney Challenge – T4: Write about someone relying on somebody else to make them happy; Cookie's Crafty Corner – Purl Stitch: Write from the perspective of a Death Eater or someone on the wrong side of events; Book Club – Nick: (dialogue) "We're not so different", (trait) risk-taking, (color) navy blue; Showtime 3: (trait) Selfish; Count Your Buttons – S1: Leave a Light On – Tom Walker; O4: Cigarette; D5: "You don't get it, okay?"; W3: Freckles; Lyric Alley 4: I've learned to be ashamed of all my scars; Ami's Audio Admirations 14: Prompt set (color) red, (setting) at night, (word) glow; Sophie's Shelf – Trio Slash 2: RonDraco; Angel's Arcade – Sonya Blade: (trait) stubborn; (word) fierce, (action) kissing; Lo's Lowdown – C4: Write about someone who prefers actions to words; Film Festival 4: (plot point) getting drunk, 20: (action) hair being pulled; Seasonal – Shay's Musical Challenge 48: Write an M-rated fic; Gryffindor Challenge: Ron Weasley, Passionate; Fortnightly – Chocolate – C9: Include a steamy scene; 365 Prompts – 189: (location) Malfoy Manor; Prompt of the Day: (era) Trio; Holmes – Ch3: (action) Fighting; Dragons and Writing Month: wc 1179**


	3. Afloat - JamesRemus

James climbs into the boat with a practiced ease. You clamber in awkwardly after him, grateful that he hasn't turned around yet. You pull yourself up before James gets the chance and follow him to the front of the small motorboat. The bow, you think it's called. You're not confident enough in your boat knowledge to say it out loud, though.

You watch your boyfriend as he turns to face you, leaning in to kiss your forehead before he undocks the boat and you drift off on the lake. It's a strange sensation – one you're not sure you'll ever get used to. You take a seat with James, him behind the wheel of the boat and you pressed up against his side, an arm around his waist. James kicks the motor into gear, and you ride the subtle waves for a while. Occasionally, he flashes you a smile, takes your hand in his. He's been talking about taking you on his boat all summer. If it wasn't for the way his eyes lit up as he spoke about it, you probably would've said no. You love James, but you don't love the open water. But here, holding him so close to you… maybe this is alright.

Here you are, the last day of your summer holidays, out on James Potter's boat in the middle of the lake. It's stunning, really. The water is shimmering and clear; the trees that border the lake are tall, picturesque. James lets the boat float on its own, turning in his seat to kiss you on the cheek before taking your hand and leading you to the row of seats along the back.

"I was thinking," he says as he lifts the seats, revealing a storage compartment. He pulls out a picnic basket and a pack of beers. "That we could eat, maybe take a swim?"

You smile, looking into his eyes and realizing just how incapable you are of saying no to him. You argue half-heartedly. "What about that rule, not swimming straight after eating?" You smirk as he waves off your concerns, laying out a picnic blanket on the floor of the boat.

"That old saying? It's merely a suggestion." James sets the basket in the center of the gingham blanket and sets out a beer for each of you. "C'mon, Rem. Take a seat."

You do, but you shift over to sit beside him instead of across from him, as he'd set it up. He chuckles, raising an arm and you nestle underneath it, taking the cap off your beer and taking a swig. "It's gorgeous out here," you comment.

James sets to work making you each a plate of food, and as he passes yours over, his eyes linger on you. "It really is."

You roll your eyes, shoving him slightly. "You're ridiculous."

"You're the one who loves me."

You hum. "I guess that's true." You set your beer down, and take his cheek in your hand, turning his face toward you. You lean up, kissing him. "I love you."

"If the rest of my life could be like this moment, I'd be really happy."

"What, you're not really happy now?"

James grins. "Looks like you should try that again." You breathe a laugh into his mouth, savoring the warmth of his lips, their softness against your own. He's got a point. This is all you really need in life.

You finish your picnic and pack the basket back up into the rear of the boat. James has had quite a few beers – it's clear on his breath and in his eyes. "Lightweight," you murmur. He doesn't hear you. He's too busy taking his shirt off, leaving him in just his swim trunks. His hair is a right mess; you want nothing more than to run your hands through it, tug on his locks as he kisses you deeply –

"Remus, c'mere, look!" You roll your eyes but follow him back to the driver's seat. "When I drive it real fast, look at the bubbles it makes!" He pushes forward the accelerator as far as it'll go. The boat shoots off across the lake, leaping across the wakes and crashing back down. You follow James's glance behind yourselves, just for a brief moment. Water builds up behind the boat, a wall of foam and bubble and wave.

"James, cut it out." Placing your hand on top of his, you slow the boat down to a normal speed again. He looks up at you, smug and gleeful. "Don't be driving boats when you're drunk, you're a mess."

"Maybe – _hic_ – it wasn't right. But I can't be right all the time." He looks off across the water, eyebrows scrunched together in thought. When he looks back at you, he's got a confident and entirely false sense of knowledgeable authority about him. "Quite often I is left instead of right."

"What are you even talking about, mate?" You can't help but laugh, but you muffle it behind your hand. The last thing you want is to boost his ego.

"I'm not right, I'm _left_!"

"You're a right mess is what you are, babe. Do you really expect me to get us back to the dock?" James shrugs.

"I can do it, _babe_." He drags out the last syllable, just a hint of mocking behind his voice. He reaches for the wheel, but you stop him.

"I've got a better idea. How about we just stay out on the water for a while, worry about heading back later." James leans back, resting on your chest. You run your fingers through his hair; you're not in any rush to leave.

 **A/N: Writing Club – Character Appreciation 5: (features) Messy hair; Disney Challenge S1: Write a fic set on water; Dark Lady's Diabolical Lair 7: Shimmering; Book Club – Linus: (relationship) boyfriend, (action) smiling, (drink) beer; Showtime 5: (word) Sensation; Amber's Attic 4: "I swear that when our lips touch, I can taste the next sixty years of my life"; Ami's Audio Admirations 4: (setting) Summer Holiday; Sophie's Shelf 31: Remus/James; Bex's Basement 4: (dialogue) "I cannot be right all the time. Quite often I is left instead of right"; Film Festival 8: (item) Bubbles; Slash September: James Potter; Fortnightly – Feline Fair 19: Write a story set on or near water; Supernatural Day – Nymph: Write a fic set on or near water; Assignment #4 - Muggle Cultures Task 2: Write about someone getting drunk; Insane House Challenge 117: (Pairing) James/Remus; 365 Prompts – 7: (action) Preparing a picnic; Seasonal – Days of the Year – June 8: Write a story that takes place in, on, or under the water; Summer Prompts: (object) Swimming costume; Shay's Musical Challenge 5: Write about someone who likes adventuring; Gryffindor Challenge: James Potter, Reckless; Summer Astronomy Prompts – Sept 23: (theme) Last day of summer; Writing Month wc 943**


	4. Sappy - HarryGinny

"I don't want to picture my life without you."

"That's sappy—"

"No, I mean it." Harry took a deep breath. He hesitated, just long enough for Ginny to look up and meet his eyes, a shadow of concern flashing across her face. It was just barely masked by that overwhelming glow of love that lit up her eyes when she looked at him. "Look," he started again. Harry took her hands in his, maintaining eye contact. He nearly lost himself in her eyes. "My life was… _shit_ , before I met you. Before I went to Hogwarts, before I was friends with Ron. Before I—had a place. And then we got closer, you and I. There were so many days where you were the only thing keeping me going, Gin.

"I love you," he added, giving her a smile. His thoughts were simultaneously far too distracting and completely nonexistent. Everything that he'd done to get to this point – growing up with the Dursleys, facing Voldemort time and time again, ending the war only to keep fighting it as an Auror for three years – all of it had led him here. And when he watched Ginny, when he saw the way her eyes lit up and her mouth formed a small 'oh' of realization as he knelt before her, it all felt worth it. There was nothing else he needed, nothing else he hoped to accomplish. Nothing aside from this.

"Harry," Ginny breathed, her hands still held in his own. He didn't want to let her go, but he did. One of his hands reached into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a small ring box. Ginny fell speechless at the sight of it. He couldn't remember the last time that she had nothing to say to him.

"Ginny. I love you," he paused for a brief moment. He'd gone through this whole monologue in his head countless times. He rather thought that the dramatic pause here did what he wanted it to. She was holding onto his every word, her eyes shining with admiration and disbelief and _joy_. "I love you with my whole being, all that I ever was, all that I'll ever be. And I don't want to picture my life without you, Ginny, I can't. You're all that matters to me. Marry me?"

He opened the ring box with slightly shaking fingers, revealing the gleaming ring within. She held a hand up in front of her mouth, a gasp escaping. "You're ridiculous."

"Fine, I'll try again," he laughed softly, shaking his head. "Wanna get married?"

"Of course I do, you idiot." Ginny pulled him in close, kissing him as she laced her fingers through his hair, holding him tight to her. He melted into her touch, wrapping his arms around her waist and smiling wide. Ginny smiled, too, and leaned back. "Your first proposal was beautiful, too. A solid nine out of ten, I'd say."

Harry just grinned, hugging Ginny and resting his head in the crook of her neck. He pushed a strand of her red hair behind her ear, combing his fingers through her hair. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too. And I never want to be without you, either."

 **.**

 **I've been looking at a lot of blvnk's Hinny art lately, and this just...happened.**

 **Written for: Writing Club – Character Appreciation 23: (house) Gryffindor; Lizzy's Loft 10: (trait) Redhead; Showtime 9: (emotion) Love; Amber's Attic 15: Write a romance with a happy ending; Emy's Emporium 16: (genre) Romance; Film Festival 3: (object) Wedding ring;**

 **365 Prompts – 113: (emotion) Love;**

 **Fantastic Beasts: B13: (word) Kiss, W22: (genre) Romance;**

 **Fortnightly – Orphans 5: (object) Ring;**

 **Writing Month – wc 540**


	5. interpretation - HarryDraco

"I can't believe you convinced me to come to this, on Christmas of all nights," Harry muttered, tugging on the cuffs of his dress robes. Draco took his hands, stilling them. He regarded his boyfriend—the mossy green of his dress robes suited him beautifully, drawing attention to his eyes. Draco looked away quickly. He didn't need to get distracted, they were already running late.

"I can be very persuasive when I want to be," he said simply, leading the way through the doorway into the extravagant ballroom. "And if I have to come, so do you."

"I don't see why either of us had to come. We could just go, spend the night in bed…"

Draco turned back to him, flashing him a look. "It's a Benefactor's Gala, Potter," he said gently, just a hint of a smirk present in his voice. Enough had changed between them over the years, to the point where Harry found it endearing now. "My mother's given the most money to this organization since the war. It would be a scandal if I didn't attend." Draco picked up two champagne flutes from a house elf's tray as it passed, handing one to Harry. "We don't have to stay the whole night, just long enough to make an appearance and hear Mother's speech."

He led Harry through the room, winding between tables and offering polite greetings to those who acknowledged him. No one they passed spoke to Harry, but the wave of hushed whispers that followed them was painfully apparent. Harry took a deep breath, sticking close to Draco.

Harry had been in his fair share of rooms full of Pureblood wizards who had personally opposed him during the war. Those who were once highest in society, who were able to pay their way out of any problem they encountered, who had nothing to worry about in choosing their side in the war. Those who chose the side that would simplify their comfortable existences. Harry supposed that this whole organization was comprised of such people—he knew the Malfoys had used their wealth to ameliorate their standing as the war ended.

Clearly outnumbered, clearly opposed, and clearly the only one in the room with less than pure wizarding ancestry, Harry felt, as he always did, that all eyes were on him. None of these stares were directed toward a war hero, none of the gasps were of a pleased surprise. The whispers that erupted around them were curious, no doubt, as to how someone like Harry Potter was brought as the guest of a Malfoy.

When they sat at the front of the room, Draco beside Narcissa's reserved seat, he leaned over to Harry. "I suppose this is one way to let the world know that we're together."

Harry gave a grim smile. They'd both wanted to avoid making their relationship the topic of a publicity scandal, though Harry knew it was only a matter of time.

"It'll be fine, really. Everyone here is in this organization to try and save face from the war. They may not approve, but they won't do anything about it." Draco hesitated for a moment before reaching over to take Harry's hand.

The dinner progressed better than Harry would've expected. Narcissa and Draco made a point of including Harry in the appropriate conversations, and he followed their lead as best he could. He spent most of the meal with his eyes fixed on his plate, occasionally flitting up to meet Draco's. The elaborate centerpiece, which included a large jar full of what appeared to be live fireflies giving off light, was an efficient enough method of blocking eye-contact with those across the table from Harry, for which he was thankful. He was just there to support Draco and Narcissa. He'd made it this far. When their dishes had been cleared away and Narcissa rose to give her speech, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He always appreciated having someone other than him as the center of attention.

True to his word, Draco gave Harry's hand a squeeze a few minutes after the speeches had ended. "Are you ready to go?" he asked. Harry nodded and bid Narcissa farewell as they stood from the table. They didn't pause until they had reached the Entrance Hall. Draco looked above them, a grin playing at the sides of his mouth. He looked directly upward. Harry followed his eyes. Mistletoe. Draco raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking permission to expose their secret even more resolutely.

Harry wasn't sure he had anything to lose. He leaned forward, moving a hand to rest on the small of Draco's back, another along his jawline. He kissed his boyfriend soundly, leaving absolutely no room for interpretation.

 **.**

 **A/N: Written for: Advent Calendar Day 5: (fanon pairing) Draco/Harry;**

 **Writing Club – Character Appreciation 27: (status) Half-blood; Disney Challenge T2: Write about falling in love against the odds; Cookie's Cooking Corner 9: Write about doing something because it's traditional, rather than enjoyable; Showtime 10: (word) Benefactor; Count Your Buttons O4: Mistletoe; Lyric Alley 3: On the 25** **th** **day of the 12** **th** **month; Em's Emporium 8: (event) Ball/Party;**

 **Fortnightly – Bucket List 10: (drink) Champagne;**

 **Seasonal – Days of the Year: Sept 23: Write about a relationship between characters on either side of the war; Color Prompts: Moss green; Elemental: (word) Gasp; Ravenclaw Prompts: (traits) Curious; Astronomy: (creature) Firefly;**

 **Writing Month and Dragons: wc 790**


	6. Perfect - GeorgeLeeOliver

"Oliver!" Lee and George chorused, running across the lawn to embrace their boyfriend. Oliver grinned back at them, his heart feeling full again for the first time in nearly a year. It'd been so long since he'd seen them—really seen them, gotten to spend a full day with George and Lee. He missed having them all together. But they'd been at Hogwarts for their sixth year, and he'd been at practice or playing a match whenever he wasn't sleeping.

Of course, the rigor of playing Quidditch professionally didn't dampen his love of the game. "Are you ready?" he asked them, shouldering his broom and watching them expectantly.

George gave a salute, which made Oliver laugh. It brought him back to his Gryffindor Quidditch days, when he was George's coach instead of his lover. Lee watched them both with a grin playing at the corners of his lips. "And you're playing this time, mate," George told him. He took Lee's hand in his own, leading him over to where they'd kept their brooms. By the time they'd retrieved them and turned back toward Oliver, he'd already taken off. He was hovering a few feet above their heads, making lazy circles through the air.

"Show-off," Lee murmured to George. His laugh was uproarious, bringing a smile to the other two's faces. He snatched the Quaffle off the ground, taking it up with him as George ascended to meet Oliver. Lee followed behind—for all his complaining, he really was as good a flier as George, having practiced with him and Fred enough times over the years.

They didn't make it a full-out competition, though they all secretly wished that they had. The three of them simply threw the Quaffle back and forth. Getting bored with that quickly, they ended up lobbing the ball as far and dramatically as they could, forcing the others into steep dives and desperate attempts to keep the Quaffle from hitting the ground. A part of Oliver was insisting that he was tired of Quidditch, that he just wanted to take a break and have a relaxing day with his boyfriends. But if he was honest, this was still the happiest he's felt in so long. Quidditch was the most important thing in his life, after George and Lee. It was such a big part of all of their lives—sharing it in this moment was a no-brainer. It was perfect.

 **.**

 **A/N: Advent Calendar Day 7: (threesome) George/Lee/Oliver;**

 **Writing Club - Showtime 1: (dialogue) "Are you ready?"; Lyric Alley 14: Spent the best part of last year apart; Em's Emporium 4: Write about something important to a group of people; Bex's Basement 20: Write about George Weasley;**

 **Fortnightly – Bucket List 13: (action) Throwing something;**

 **Writing Month and Dragons: wc 404**


	7. Order - RemusSirius

"Has Remus been in yet?"

Sirius expected to have to explain to the barista who Remus was, but the girl working the register just shook her head. "He'll probably be in soon, though. What can I get for you?"

"Good, good. So, can I please get a venti white chocolate mocha and," Sirius paused, trying to remember how to word Remus's usual drink order. "A triple ristretto grande hazelnut latte."

She gave Sirius his total and he paid, dropping his change into the tip jar and walking over to an open table. Sirius took a seat, glancing out the window and shivering at the snow falling outside. After a few minutes, his drinks were ready. He picked them up from the handoff plane, his hands shaking slightly as Sirius carried the two coffees back to his table. It wasn't long before the bell above the door announced the arrival of another customer. He was wrapped in a long, maroon scarf. He wore a Christmas sweater that only elderly men should be able to pull off unironically, but it worked. Over that was a black pea coat, the collar of which just brushed the ends of his curly, honey-brown hair. Sirius pushed himself to his feet, picking up the smaller drink and stepping in front of Remus as he joined the line.

"Hey," he said coolly. Remus gave him a skeptical look, confused. Sirius ignored it. "It's Remus, right?" At Remus's raised eyebrow, Sirius tried to correct. "I've been behind you in line here for the past few weeks. Sorry, that probably sounded creepy. Look, I'll get right to it. I think you're pretty cute. And I've been working up the courage to say something to you for a while now, so I thought I'd buy you a coffee and we could get to know each other. I'm Sirius." He extended a hand, and Remus shook it. He still looked taken aback, and a little concerned, but he softened his face into a smile and Sirius's heart melted.

" _Serious_?"

"Almost. C'mon, I've got a table over here."

They sat down, Sirius taking a sip of his coffee and Remus staring at him, thinking. He looked down at his cup, moving the cardboard sleeve out of the way and reading the markings on the side of the cup. "You knew my order?"

"I did say I've been behind you in line nearly every day lately, right?" Sirius smiled. "Guess it just stuck."

Remus returned the smile, his eyes bright. "I suppose I should know your order, then. Make it even."

"Just a white mocha," he said with a laugh like a bark. Remus's heart soared; he felt himself getting more comfortable with Sirius. "Nothing that outrageous," Sirius added with a nod to Remus's cup.

"So," he continued. "What do you do for a living that brings you in for your morning coffee at 11:30?"

Remus chuckled as he took another sip of his latte. "I'm a professor up at the university. Foundational philosophy." He glanced down at his watch. "Speaking of which, I've got a class to teach in an hour…"

"Ah, an intellectual," Sirius commented, an air of pretentiousness to his tone.

"And you?"

"Well. I'm not actually too sure what I'd like to do yet." Sirius fixed his gaze on his cup. "I inherited a bit of money when my uncle died, but that's—that's all I've really got going right now." Sirius finally looked up, catching a worried look on Remus's face, his eyebrows furrowed. "It's fine, really," he insisted. "So, Mr. Professor." Sirius cocked an eyebrow. "I'll let you get off to class, _but_ I would love to buy you a drink tonight, if you're interested."

Remus bit his lip, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I believe you paid for coffees today, which means drinks tonight are on me. I'll see you then."

Picking up his things and drinking the last few dregs of his coffee, Remus left with a last smile at Sirius. Sirius just stood for a moment, watching him leave into the billowing winter storm outside and thinking of nothing but the night to come.

 **.**

 **A/N: Written for Advent Calendar Day 12: (scenario) Character A has stood behind B in a coffee shop so many times that they have unintentionally memorized their order;**

 **Writing Club – Character Appreciation 2: (trait) Friendly; Showtime 4: (word) Pay; Count Your Buttons O2: Scarf; Bex's Basement 12: Write a fluffy wolfstar; Film Festival 1: Starbucks!AU; 9: (object) Christmas Jumper;**

 **Fortnightly – Bucket List 8: (weather) Snow;**

 **Seasonal – Days of the Year Oct 4: Write a coffee shop!AU; Autumn Prompts: (object) Jumper; Color Prompts: Honey; Elemental: (pairing) RemusSirius;**

 **Writing Month and Dragons: wc 694**


	8. Secrets - JamesRegulus

"And here I thought you'd be done with me when they made you Head Boy. Guess you haven't changed as much as they think you have."

James snorted, shaking his head as he glanced over the parapets of the Astronomy Tower. "It's not like anyone knows about this, Reg. I haven't even told Sirius."

"And you won't." Regulus's voice carried his threat. James looked over, meeting his eyes. "I mean it. Sirius'll take any opportunity he has to undermine me, and if my mother finds out about this—"

The other boy just nodded, turning around and sinking down to sit beside Regulus. His back rested against the walls of the tower, his hand resting on Regulus's thigh. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

"Cheers."

As much as James wanted to tell his best friend that he was with his brother, it was not a mistake he felt he could bear to make. Keeping this secret was better for everyone involved. James had decided this a year before, when he had first started meeting Regulus up here in secret.

Regulus pulled two small boxes from his pocket, pulling a cigarette from one and a match from the other. James laughed. "You're just like your brother, you know. You _could_ light that with magic."

"It feels more real this way." He put the filter to his lips as the door to the tower banged open. Regulus froze; James's eyes shot toward the Invisibility Cloak, which lay unhelpfully across the room.

"Shit."

James looked to see who entered, feeling his heart sink to his feet at the sight of Sirius. He didn't move a muscle, apart from his eyes which flit between Regulus and James. The latter moved his hand from Regulus's thigh, but it was too late now. "What the hell is going on in here?"

Regulus leapt to his feet, bearing toward Sirius. James stood, reaching for Reg's arms, trying to pull him back. "Sirius, please. Let me explain," he said, taking hold of the other boy's brother.

"Explain what? That you've been sneaking up here to see my _brother_ while we all thought you were off with Evans?"

"You—what?" James shook his head, amending. "Doesn't matter. Look, I just—"

"I really don't want to hear it." With a last glare at Regulus, Sirius turned around, leaving the Astronomy Tower with his robes billowing out around him.

Regulus looked back, meeting James's eye. His expression was unreadable; James's was tense and unsure.

James gave a half-shrug, trying to play it off. "At least we don't have to keep any secrets anymore?"

"Yeah," Regulus said with a sigh. "Because we're done here, Potter." And he, too, left the tower, mirroring his brother's exit exactly and leaving James alone.

 **.**

 **A/N: Written for Advent Calendar Day 19: (restriction) Only males;**

 **Writing Club – Showtime 8: (object) box of matches; Sophie's Shelf P3: James/Regulus; Liza's Loves 6: Write about bad timing; Angel's Arcade 11: (pairing) JamesRegulus, (location) The Astronomy Tower, (action) Reaching for someone;**

 **Writing Month and Dragons: wc 459**


	9. Dad - HarryGinny

Harry's hands were shaking. Work had kept him up for the past two days straight, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd gotten a good night's sleep. "Can you please just _shut up_?" he boomed, but it was a hollowed, deadened sound. Harry pushed up off the couch, but then looked at his son.

Little Jamie was barely two years old. He'd been playing in the corner—albeit rather loudly—but at Harry's outburst, the boy looked up at his father, eyes frozen in fear. He'd never heard his dad that _loud_ before. His mum rushed over, wrapping a hand around the child and turning on Harry.

"He didn't mean it, dear. Daddy's just very tired, _isn't he_?" Ginny's voice was cold and clipped when she looked at her husband. She cooed to her baby, hugging him.

Harry looked at the pair of them, feeling shame flooding his being. He thought he'd left behind this explosive, angry person when he became a father. The war was well and truly over, new deaths were rare, infrequent. He had a family, finally. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin it, but here he was shouting at his toddler. "I'm sorry," he muttered, turning tail and holing himself up in his bedroom.

Ginny didn't follow for a few minutes, but Harry had had a feeling she would. "You're bloody lucky I know you better than that. What happened?" Her hands were on her hips—she was the spitting image of her mother. Harry shrunk back but met her eyes.

"I can't believe I—I should've just gone upstairs from the start. I just need sleep and a damn break from this case." He shoved the file and papers off his bedside table—they floated down upon the floor, horribly out of order and showing the faces of the few remaining Death Eaters. "I just want to quit the Aurors."

"Good, but we'll talk about it when you're sane." Ginny moved to sit on their bed, patting the seat beside her and giving Harry a look. He complied. "You're sure it's just work that has you like this?"

"Like what?"

She sighed. "I haven't seen you smile in days, Harry. And I'd told myself back when you started this job that if it was what you really wanted, if it made you happy, then I'd be as supportive as possible. But, Merlin, Harry, it's draining you. You had to fight bloody Death Eaters all through school and you claim you still want to? It's bullshit."

"I—"

" _No_. It is. And now you're taking it out on James."

Harry had nothing to say to this. He couldn't meet Ginny's eyes. "I'm a terrible father, I knew—"

"You're not." Ginny put an arm around Harry's shoulder, pulling him to her and leaning her head on his shoulder. "No one ever claimed being a parent was easy. I can't imagine how my parents pulled it off, God, could you imagine seven?

"But the good times really make the bad worth it, don't they? He really can be an angel sometimes." Her eyes were distant and fond, her smile soft and genuine. "I believe in you, Harry. You're an amazing dad; you haven't peaked yet. Which is a—" she sighed. "A really good thing because we're having another."

Harry's eyes snapped back up to hers. "We're what?"

"Timing could be better, I suppose, but yeah. Pregnant. And it's that gorgeous smile you've got there now that proves my point." She kissed him, holding his face close to hers even when they'd broken apart. "You're wonderful. Now." Another kiss. "How do we break this to Jamie?"

 **.**

 **A/N: Written for Advent Calendar Day 21: (relationship) Married;**

 **Writing Club - Disney Challenge S8: Write about believing in something or someone; Showtime 17: (emotion) Angry; Count Your Buttons W2: Angel; Angel's Arcade 9: (action) Correcting someone, (emotion) Annoyed, (trait) Determined;**

 **Writing Month and Dragons: wc 613**


	10. Easy - HarryGinny

"You could've told me we were going somewhere nicer. I would've brought more money and I definitely would've changed."

Harry looked across the table at Ginny, taking in her hair pulled back into a long braid, a bandana tied like a headband; her old t-shirt and ripped jeans. He smiled. "You're not paying," he said simply. "And I wanted to keep it a surprise. We haven't been on a date in a while, I wanted to make it special."

Ginny rolled her eyes at him, picking up the menu and searching for the lowest prices. Harry was ridiculous, and she told him as much.

"Maybe I am," he replied with a grin. "I've been thinking a lot about what happened at the end of my sixth year. At the time, it seemed like it was for the best, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since then."

He was cut off from his monologuing by their server approaching the table, asking what they'd like to drink. Before Ginny could say that she'd just like a water, Harry had ordered them a bottle of wine. She shot him a look, which he didn't catch.

When they were alone at their table again, Harry looked at her. He couldn't help the smile that worked its way to his lips. "I want to make up for all that time we missed out on."

"Don't even go there, Potter." Ginny ignored the way his brows furrowed in confusion. "We're moving on. Like the bad parts never happened, alright? You're not making up for anything, and I'm paying the next time we go out."

They managed to go the entire dinner without mention of the war. With Harry, it was easy to talk about everything and nothing and avoid the conversations that neither of them wanted to have right now. It was nice. It was perfect.

 **.**

 **A/N: Written for Advent Calendar Day 24: (setting) Restaurant;**

 **Writing Club – Disney Challenge C10: Write about someone realizing they're wrong too late; Showtime 19: (genre) Romance; Lyric Alley 2: Over mulled wine with you; Angel's Arcade 4: (dialogue) "Don't even go there…", (object) Bandana, (trait) Sassy;**

 **Writing Month and Dragons: wc 314**


	11. Redo - RemusSirius

They say that time doesn't follow its usual patterns when a loved one dies. The grieving process tends to interfere with that—days last forever, years go by in the blink of an eye, you constantly feel drawn back to the time when you were with the one who died. A part of you has died, too. It's only natural that you feel as though your world is ending.

The days lasting forever is a side-effect that's short lived. You haven't even gotten through a year before you realize what's happening. You're numb to the changings of the world around you, you don't feel its regressions. All you can feel is the crushing reality of your loss, and a slight tugging in the pit of your stomach.

You don't know how it's happening, all you know is that Sirius Black is standing in front of you now, some of the stress lining his face from the war smoothed over, some more of that shine in his eyes.

Tears are welling up in your eyes before you can stop them. " _Sirius_." Your voice is small, unbelieving, as though merely saying the name out loud would shatter the mirage before you.

"Uh, hey Remus?" Sirius shoots you a quizzical look, his head tilted to one side. Your heart leaps because he can see you, too, and he can speak to you. "Is there a reason you're staring at me like I'm about to burst into flames?"

You can't respond, you rush forward and pull him into the tightest hug you can manage. After a second, he returns it just as fiercely. You're truly sobbing now, but just as soon as it happens, it's all gone.

.

You're flung back into your own life, back and forth between your future and a new version of your past. Every time you go back, you go back just slightly further than the last past you left. Every time you return to your own timeline, it's as though you've missed the periods of time in which you were with Sirius. You don't understand it; you don't really try to.

Secretly, you wish that this new, past version of you—the you thrown back in time to spend time with Sirius, the you who knows all your own future missteps and the dark effects of the war—you wish that this version could have been your own past.

You wish you could've lived your live knowing what you do now. You wonder how things could've been different. But there's only so much you can change in the snippets that you revisit. There's only so much time left, time when you aren't enjoying the ability to be young again, to be with Sirius.

.

It's hard to keep living in both your own past and present. Some events feel forced upon you, like you're being dragged to them against your will. The choices you make in your present—those unaffected by the influence of your newfound past escapades—those are still set in stone for you. You can't stop them, you're merely stuck in your body, forced to watch them play out before you.

It draws a painful metaphor to your werewolf transformations. You try not to think about the cruel fate of your life.

.

Dumbledore asks you to go live among the werewolves for a year, and you can't say no. Even if you weren't stuck in this hand-of-god life, you'd do anything Dumbledore needed from you. You're the only one who can go on this mission.

But being able to see Sirius, being able to go back to the years where he was fresh out of Azkaban, twelve years of longing to make up for, almost makes the experience bearable.

He's more vulnerable now. You can't remember a time where you'd seen him so open—not until his escape from prison. It had changed him. Even going back, even ageing in reverse on every odd day wasn't enough to bring back the Sirius you once knew. That swagger is gone, or diminished at least. He looks at you, his eyes like liquid platinum, boring into yours as he tells you what he went through.

.

The travel is disorienting. It's not like Floo Powder, you don't feel the transition between worlds. You merely wake up some days and find yourself in years prior. Some days, you're still in your own deeply war-torn world.

"Are you okay?" Sirius asks. He's got a pair of sunglasses resting atop his head. He's still in hiding; you're not sure the last time he saw the sun enough to bother, but you didn't argue the point.

"I'm alright. I just—I just want the world to stop turning. Just for a minute." You sigh. "I just need a minute."

Sirius wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding you close. "Take all the time you need."

But you can't. You don't have all the time you need, because just when you get settled in here, you're whisked back to your own time. A time where Sirius is dead and you're forced to move on with your life. You're not sure how much longer you can keep this up.

.

"I'm sorry, you _married my cousin_?"

"I—"

Sirius laughs, a deep, warm sound. You missed this more than anything, so you let him go on. "I mean, I'm sure you were lonely, but Merlin, Remus." Despite the humor in his words, you can feel the disappointment, and it's killing you. But you never thought you'd see him again, and here you are.

You grin weakly, leaning into his shoulder. The sitting room at Grimmauld Place had always made you feel uneasy, but as Sirius wrapped his arm around your shoulder, you eased into his embrace. "She doesn't know me like you do."

"Naw, I'm pretty sure the only person who knows you better than I do is you, Moony."

"You're not upset, then?"

There's a pause, then, "I—just taken aback, I think. Just so long as you don't go having babies with her…"

.

"What did you do?"

You stare at him with wide eyes, mouth agape. "What?"

"No need to act so shocked, Remus. I know you. You're a shit liar. So, what'd you do?"

With a sigh, you look up, meeting his eyes. "Remember last time I saw you? What you said when I left?"

It took a moment, but then it clicked. " _You didn't_."

"I definitely didn't mean to." Remus glanced around, taking in the room. They were both younger than they had been before, younger than Remus really is. Too young to be living in a world this broken. "You don't hate me?"

"Hate is a bit harsh, isn't it? But if you keep abandoning your pregnant wife like this I might change my mind."

"I—"

Sirius just smiles. "You're going to have a baby, Moony! A baby Moony!"

Grinning, you lean into his embrace, wondering how your life managed to end up here.

.

The war is brutal.

You don't survive it, but if you're being honest, it's a miracle you've made it this far.

When you wake up the next morning, you're back in the past life you share with Sirius, in which your life moves backwards. You have a feeling you'll get to stay this time, though.

Sirius sees you, his face breaking into a grin. You try to return the expression, but you can guarantee you didn't make it convincing. You died. Well and truly died, and you left your baby boy to fend for himself. And you hate yourself for it, you really do.

But then you look at Sirius. Maybe it's destiny that you get to have an afterlife with him. Maybe your life was always drawn to this ending.

"Hey," he says, slipping his hand into yours.

You squeeze it gently, firmly. "Sirius. I—I'm here for good this time. I get to stay; I get to be with you. My everything… Everything I am is because of you, you know that? It's all because of you."

 **.**

 **A/N: Written for: Advent Calendar Day 25: (song) She Don't Know Me – Mullally;**

 **Writing Club – Disney Challenge D1: "Everything I am is because of you."; Trope of the Month 1: (dialogue) "What did you do?"; Showtime 42: (word) Destiny; Angel's Arcade 2: (object) Sunglasses, (word) Swagger, (trait) Sarcastic; Bex's Basement 2: Write a fic using the Deaged Trope;**

 **Seasonal – Days of the Year Jan 31: Write about someone doing something backwards; Winter Prompts: (word) Harsh; Color Prompts: Platinum; Birthstones – Tanzanite: (dialogue) "Is there a reason you're staring at me like I'm about to burst into flames?";Flowers – Plum Blossom: (theme) New Start;** **Elemental – Characteristic: Write about someone who is acting very emotionally; Winter in Japan – Write about the effects of war on someone; Slytherin Challenge: (trait) Determined;** **Star Chart: (dialogue) "I just want the world to stop turning. Just for a minute. I just need a minute.";**

 **Writing Month and Dragons: wc 1349**


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